


You're Faking A Smile With The Coffee To Go

by Emeraldawn



Category: NCIS
Genre: Community: 1-million-words, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, hurt/comfort bingo, off screen rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-02
Updated: 2013-08-02
Packaged: 2017-12-22 04:46:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/909086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emeraldawn/pseuds/Emeraldawn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim learned from an early age to man-up and work through the pain, even if the pain could not be seen on your skin. H/C and Papa Gibbs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Faking A Smile With The Coffee To Go

**Author's Note:**

> One Million words weekend Challenge on LJ. Also fill for my H/C bingo wildcard – Rape. Beta'd by Killpurakat

The Monday morning alarm woke Tim early, like it always did. Not one to hit the snooze button endlessly, since his father trained that out of him at a young age, Tim wanted to shut it off and stay under a pile of blankets, forgetting the world. But that little voice in his head, the one that used to sound like his father, and had, over time, change to Gibbs's tone, told him not to be a baby and just get up.

_Get the job done, McGee._

Slowly shuffling to the bathroom, Tim turned on the shower, letting the water heat. Hot water would help his stiff muscles recover quicker from spending the weekend in bed. 

Tim looked at himself in the mirror, trying to see if anything was noticeable. He knew his outward appearance hadn't changed, as long as he kept his clothes on to hide the fading bruises and the scabbed-over cut on his hip. But inside he felt torn, and he hated not knowing how to put himself together. 

Hated that night replaying in his head, his voice messing with his mind.

_You can't lie to yourself, Timmy._

___________________________________________

McGee stopped by his favorite coffee place on the way to the yard. One thing that came from being a hermit all weekend was his shopping wasn’t done on Saturday, hence no coffee at home. He really wanted to get to his desk and drowned himself in cold-case paperwork, but the need for caffeine made him enter the coffee shop.

Being around the noise and the people reminded Tim of Friday night. The bar was packed, people enjoying the start of the weekend with money, booze, and a local jazz band. Then, Tim didn't mind the people around him, lively, talkative, enjoying each other’s company. Today, he hated it. Made his skin feel too tight and the air too thin.

_That look of fear is beautiful on you , Timmy_

By the time his coffee was ready, Tim was resisting the urge to bolt from the coffee shop. Instead, he picked up the cup, put on his best smile, and walked out the door at the most normal pace he could mimic.

_It's time to man up, son._

___________________________________________

The only one able to beat Tim to work was Gibbs, but that was normal. Getting to work, he was able to keep his mind clear of everything but the case files as people filed out of the elevator and milled about the office.

_I want to see your eyes, Timmy. Look at me._

“Hey, earth to Tim, is anyone there?”

“Sorry, Tony, I was just thinking about -” Tim held up the case file, letting that finish his sentence. 

“No problem, man, but look, can you look up? I was telling you about sweet Sasha, who I happened to meet this weekend.” Tony put his smart phone in Tim's line of sight, showing him a picture of a young blonde woman. The background showed whatever club Tony had gone to Saturday night. 

Tony went on talking about Sasha, and how blondes were more fun in general, but Tim was fixated on the shine of the blond hair under the club lights. Hers had a green tint to it. Not blue, his had had a blue tint.

_Pleased to meet you, Timmy. Do you mind if I sit here? This place is packed._

“McGee, are you sure you're okay? You zoned out again.”

“I'm fine, Tony. What was it again?”

“I was just telling you she has a sister, but you didn't answer your phone. Busy weekend?” Tony wiggled his eyebrows, giving Tim a knowing look.

Tim tried hard to keep his voice from breaking. “No, just stayed in. I wasn't feeling well.”

“Hopefully you didn't get the flu, McGee,” Ziva said from her desk. “Summer sicknesses drain you more.”

“No, I was just...off, but I’m feeling better,” Tim tried to reassure them, keeping his eyes downcast on the files in front of him. Tim didn't trust his teammates to not catch the lie in his eyes.

“Did you get to go to that Jazz club on Friday?” Ziva asked. “I know you were looking forward to it.”

_Have you heard this band play before, Timmy? I hear they’re good, but it's my first time catching them._

“Yeah, Ziva. I think I caught something there.”

___________________________________________

For the ninth time that day, McGee excused himself to use the restroom, only to bypass it and go to the stairwell instead. He needed a quite spot to calm down, get his head under control. He should have called in sick, should have stayed in bed, trying to forget.

_You'll never forget me, Timmy. I will leave a mark on your soul._

Taking deep breaths, Tim tried to block off the building panic. The phantom throbbing from the mark on his hip didn't help. 

“You’re strong, you can do this. What would Tony do, or Gibbs?” He tried to will himself to pull together; it was _his_ life.

“McGee, my office,” Gibbs voice broke into his anxiety. Tim was caught, and didn't know what to do. How could he explain to Gibbs why he was on the verge of a panic attack in the stairwell? He was an NCIS agent, he was supposed to help the victims, not become -”

_No, I am not going there. I am not helpless._

He followed Gibbs into the elevator, letting the other man hit the button for the basement level. The moment the elevator was between floors, Gibbs flicked the red switch, shutting down the power.

“You want to tell me what’s wrong, McGee?” 

Tim kept his eyes focused on the metal door. “Everything’s fine, boss.”

“Okay, let’s try this again. What is going on, McGee? And before you answer with the standard ‘fine,’ think about who you’re talking to.” When Gibbs latched on to something, he was like a dog with a bone, and today McGee was the bone. 

Of all the days for Gibbs to be observing Tim.

“Just had a bad weekend.”

“Family?”

McGee shook his head, eyes sliding down to the floor.

“You know, I always wondered how long I could tie the elevator up before Leon decides to override it. What to find out?”

“Boss-“

“You know you’re the stubborn one? Tony would walk in, complaining. Ziva would talk to me privately. But you, you try to take on everything on your own without help. Talk to me.”

_You won’t talk, Timmy. You don’t want anyone to look at you with disdain and pity._

“Whatever it is, Tim, I am here for you.”

He’d seen it time and again. Gibbs would do anything to fulfill that promise and not turn his back on Tim. After that, it was easier talking about the blonde man he had met Friday night. The one who sat at the table, and talked about wine and Jazz, who called him Timmy, and wouldn’t take no for an answer.


End file.
